Perchance to Dream
by lunasgathering39
Summary: Sequel to "What If?" This time it's Dean's turn. What if John never made the deal? Spoilers for most of Season Two.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This sequel idea came from a question asked of a reviewer, one that wouldn't go away. Many thanks, hugs, and cookies to laughandlove for wanting to know how Sam's dream/vision came to be. It created the plot bunny from hell that won't let me finish Final Betrayal until I at least get this started.

Disclaimer: Don't own the Boys. Never could on a retail salary.

* * *

Now that Sam had put the idea into his head, _What if_, Dean couldn't make it go away. Sam wanted to know what would've happened if his brother hadn't made the deal. For Dean, it was an entirely different "what if" that plagued him. _What if Dad never made the deal to save me?_ He'd thought about it a lot when their father died, but never really could get himself to imagine how things would've turned out. It wasn't exactly something he could discuss with Sam.

He'd gotten his little brother to tell him most of what he'd seen in the dream or vision. Dean was convinced it wasn't just a dream. Sam knew too many details about things that happened or were said after he died. The only way he could know is if someone or something showed him. But he could tell the kid was holding something back. The something that left a haunted look in his eyes, especially when he looked directly at him. Dean figured it had to do with his death in the vision. Sam would never say exactly how he died, only that he did die. Neither of them slept the rest of the night of Sam's vision and not much the next night.

_Pretty sure it was vision, but from whom? And why?_

He knew trying to figure that out would drive him crazy. Better to focus on getting some sleep. They were leaving early, moving on to their next hunt. As exhausted as he was, his mind refused to let go of that one thought, _What if?_

* * *

One moment he was trying to get to sleep, the next he was standing next to a hospital bed. His hospital bed, the dream version of him hooked up to monitors and a ventilator, lights dimmed for the night. Seeing it reminded him of the feeling of choking when he woke suddenly. Though now, Sam was standing next to his bed, talking quietly to him.

"Dean, are you here? I couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help you. But I'll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting. I mean, come on you can't, you can't leave me here alone with dad, we'll kill each other, you know that." Sam paused, fought to get his emotions under control. "Dean, you've got to hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Can you hear me?"

A voice from nowhere sounding just like their father taunted, _You really want to know 'what if'? Well here it is. _He tried to question the voice, demand to know who was responsible for these visions, was met with silence.

A shift and the room was slightly different. The sun was up. Sam was asleep, head resting on the bed next to Dean's arm, holding his brother's hand. He heard a shuffling noise and turned to see his father stumbling into the room, blood flowing from a gash on his head.

_Dad? What the hell happened to you?_

"Sam...Sammy?" The words were quiet and slurred, but Sam heard and woke with a start.

"Dad? What the hell happened to you? Are you ok?" He rushed up and led their father to the chair he just vacated.

"It was the Demon. Tried to make a deal to save Dean. He wouldn't deal."

"You tried to make a deal to save Dean? You weren't trying to hunt him?"

"No. Damn it, Sam! I promised I wouldn't hunt the Demon until we knew Dean was ok, but he's not getting better. Might never get better. A deal was the only way. I know you think I don't care. You couldn't be more wrong. He's my son. I'd do anything to save him. To save you."

Dean had never heard his father say that out loud. He'd always known it, but it was different to actually hear it.

Sam sat on the end of the bed, looking defeated and said, "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm just so scared we're going to lose him."

"I know kiddo. Me too. We'll do whatever we can to fix this."

"I..I-I don't think we can."

"Why? What makes you say that?" At that, Sam let out a small, sad chuckle.

"You might not believe me, but I found a way to talk to Dean." He looked over to the floor, the spirit board still left where he'd abandoned it in search of a way to save his brother. "He told me there's a reaper here. And it's here for him." The last words broke the dam of tears Sam fought to hold in. He lowered his eyes in an attempt to hide them behind his mop of hair.

"A reaper?"

"Yeah. I searched your journal, but you already know that we can't stop a reaper."

The look on John's face was one of pure anguish, something Dean only ever saw when their mother was mentioned. As if on cue, the monitors started going crazy, the signal that they were helpless to save him. Sam jumped from the bed and ran for help. He reappeared only seconds later followed closely by nurses and doctors. They pushed Sam and John out of the room and attempted to revive their patient.

For Dean, it was surreal to watch everything happen as it had before, with one exception. His father was fine. He watched as they tried to resuscitate him to no avail. The heart monitor flat-lined.

"Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it. Time of death. 10:41 am."

He looked out the door, watched as his father stared back in disbelief. Watched Sam sink to the floor, tears flowing nonstop. Dean could hear a quiet mumble from his brother, a mantra of "He can't be dead. He can't." When their father died, Sam grieved. But he never looked as broken as he did now. He looked how Dean felt at Cold Oak, utterly lost. It hurt to see Sam in such pain even if this was only a vision. A small part was pleased that he meant even more to Sam than their father, but that was tempered by guilt at such a selfish thought.

* * *

The vision switched to the funeral pyre late at night in the middle of nowhere. They silently burned his body, no words said over the body or shared between father and son, no words of comfort. Sam glanced angrily at his father before concentrating again on the flames, his hand absently clutching the necklace he now wore. Dean's necklace.

_What the hell is he so pissed about?_

With Sam there was no telling. He couldn't go ten minutes in the same room as his father without arguing about something. Not even Dean's funeral could keep them from it. The flames became embers and he watched as they grieved each on their own. As they headed back to the truck, angry words from Sam explained why he was so pissed.

"So you don't even want to try to fix the Impala?"

_He's mad about the car? I didn't think he cared that much about my baby._

"It's just a car, Sam."

"Just a car!? Are you freaking kidding me? Dean loved that car. It's all we have left of him. It's bad enough I gave up on him..." With those words, Sam's voice caught and he forced back a sob.

Dean wanted to reach over and smack some sense into his little brother. _Damn it, Sam. You didn't give up. You could never defeat a reaper. You can't kill death. _He now knew how frustrated Sam must've felt with his vision. He didn't understand the point in showing things that couldn't be altered.

"I'm not giving up on the Impala too. I'll learn to fix it myself. I'm sure Bobby will help me."

"We don't have time for such sentimental nonsense. If we're going to get the demon, we have to go now."

Dean finally realized how little their father knew either of his sons. He loved them, but knew nothing about them. Otherwise, he'd know that fixing the car was Sam's way of making peace with his lost brother, to heal. He'd see that Sam was hurting and would for a long while. He'd know that the Impala wasn't simply a car to either of his boys. It was the one constant. It was their home. No other place ever fit that description.

"Really, and how do you propose we kill the demon? Do you know where he's gone? No. Didn't think so. You can go search for the demon all you want, I'm going to fix Dean's car."

_That sounded a lot like what I told Sam when he was itching to hunt the demon. It's weird. When he's with me, he acts so much like Dad. With Dad, he acts like me. No wonder the kid is so confused all the time._

"So you don't want to kill this demon? After all he's taken from us, you're going to just give up?"

"No, Dad. I'm not giving up. But someone taught me that there are things more important than revenge. He taught me that family comes first and for him the Impala was a member of this family. Drop me at the motel. Bobby's waiting for me so we can take the car to his garage. You go on your wild goose chase. You know where I'll be."

_Thanks, Sammy._ Dean was very glad that they couldn't see him in this vision, see the tears. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment that would surely come from his father. The teasing from Sam he could handle.

* * *

The scene shifted again. As far as the eye could see was a sea of cars. Mostly junkers, long past their prime. Everything, including the Impala, was covered in thick layers of dust made more obvious by the bright afternoon sun. He was at Bobby's watching Sam work on the car, only his long legs visible. It was coming along better than he expected. _Should've known. Once Sammy sets his mind on something..._

"Sam? You gonna answer that damn phone of yours already?"

"In a minute, Bobby. I'm almost finished with this. Besides I'm sure it's just Dad again."

"You know you can't avoid him forever. It's already been three weeks. Ignore him much longer he'll come drag you out kicking and screaming. And I ain't gonna get in the middle of that again."

"He won't bother. He cares more about finding that damn demon. And he made it perfectly clear back before De-- a while back that he could do it himself. He doesn't need me." Sam continued to work on the car. When his phone beeped the voicemail tone, he stopped and came out from under the car, face smudged in several places. He looked like he was having second thoughts about avoiding the call. "Voicemail? He never leaves a voicemail."

"Sam, you ever consider he might be hurting just as much as you? That he's too stupid and stubborn to admit it?"

"I'm fine." Dean heard the snap to the tone and wondered what was up with Sam.

"Yeah, that's why you don't eat. You barely sleep. All you do is work on the car."

"I told you I'M FINE! Now can we drop it please."

_Jeez, Sam. What the hell? You sound more like me than you._

"Don't you take that tone with me boy!" Bobby's tone sounded angry. Dean could see the hurt in the man's eyes at Sam's words. "You need to take better care of yourself. What do you think Dean would say if he could see you right now?"

Sam didn't say anything to that at first, but Dean could see the muscles in his jaw working. He was trying not to lose control and failing miserably. "Don't you do that! I'd love to know what Dean would say right now, but I can't. I screwed up and he paid for it, so I'll never know what he'd say."

"Damn it, Sam! You didn't screw up. You did exactly what Dean wanted that night, to save your daddy."

_Nothing that happened that night was your fault. I begged you not to shoot. Listen to Bobby. He's a smart man._

"Yeah, and look where that got him, where it got us! Dad couldn't even bother to stick around after we burned his body. As usual, his quest was more important than his family. You know there are times I wish I'd pulled the trigger. Dad would've gotten what he wanted, he said it himself. The Yellow-Eyed Demon would dead and Dean would be alive."

"What do you think that would've done to your brother? Watching his family self destruct before his eyes. And what about you? Do really think you could've killed your own daddy?"

Sam lowered his head and mumbled a quiet, "No." Then looked up, tears in his eyes, and said, "I miss him so much, Bobby. I don't know how long I can do this without Dean."

"I know kid. I miss him too. Now would you check that damn message?"

"Just give me a few minutes. I've almost got the new radiator hooked up. Then I promise I'll check the voicemail."

Dean was enjoying this part of the vision. He still couldn't believe how quickly Sam had gotten the car almost completely rebuilt. It was a comfort to know that once his time was up that his brother could handle the repairs to his baby. And the loss of his big brother. He always knew Sam was the strong one.

As Sam rolled out from under the car and reached for his phone, he asked, "Bring me a beer?" His expression changed from impatient to terrified in an instant. "Bobby!"

The older man rushed out, unopened beers still in hand. "What's wrong?"

"You ever hear of someone named Ellen?"

_Ellen? Why is she calling Sam?_

"Yeah, she runs a place called the Roadhouse, a bar that caters to Hunters. Why?"

"She called me from Dad's phone. Said he's there with her. Said he's hurt pretty bad. You got a car I can borrow?"

_How the hell did Dad get hurt bad enough to ask Ellen for help?_

"Sure thing. Want me to come with you?"

"No. I imagine he's still pretty pissed at you for taking my side."

"I didn't take your side. I just offered you a place to work on the car."

"It's the same thing in his eyes. You know how he is."

"Yeah, you may be right. You can take that mini-van. The keys are in it. Call me when you get there and let me know how the idjit is doing?"

"You got it. Thanks again, Bobby."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Many, MANY apologies for how long it's been since I posted to this story. I could list tons of reasons, but they'd just be excuses. I plan to post more frequently and have this story done soon. I know how I want it to end. I've had a hard time getting the middle. I think the drabble challenge helped to stir the creative juices a bit. Many thanks in advance for those that are willing to stick with this to the end. Also, I plan to have a new chapter of Monophobia very soon too._

* * *

It was a bittersweet moment for Dean. The Roadhouse was whole again, Ash still alive and Jo still safe with her mother. He wondered for a moment how Ellen was doing. Then he heard the squealing brakes and crappy music he remembered so well. He'd hated driving that damn minivan, hated even more that it only picked up one station. From the look on Sam's face, he didn't like it any more than Dean had. But he could also see the fear and worry that his little brother was trying hide, could hide from everyone but him. He watched Sam approach the bar, knocking on the door instead of picking the lock. The door opened slowly, the person behind it smart enough to be wary until they knew who they were dealing with.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Sam. Sam Winchester. You called about my father?"

The door opened fully and Dean followed as Ellen led Sam inside. He didn't realize how much he missed this place until now.

"Sam! We weren't expecting to see you for a few hours. I'm Ellen."

"I might've broken a few speed limits getting here. Thank you for calling, for taking care of Dad. Can I see him? How is he doing?"

"It was touch and go for while. He hasn't woken up yet, but the fever broke about an hour ago. I'll take you to him."

"What happened to him? It's not like him to ask strangers for help, even strangers who know about hunting."

"We're not sure what happened. He's got lots of bruises, a couple of broken ribs, a nasty cut on his head, and some cuts. It's the stab wound that had me worried. It got infected. But we ain't exactly strangers. You're daddy never told you about this place?"

"About a bar that caters to hunters? No. I didn't even know there were enough hunters out there to warrant a place like this. Dad kept a lot of secrets from us. How long have you known him?"

"Oh, at least twelve years or so, but I haven't seen him since...well, let's just say it's been a long time. Didn't expect him to come here for help. You said us. I know John has two boys. Dean not with you?"

Dean watched as Sam fought to control his emotions, not to cry in front of a total stranger. But he knew Sam too well, knew he couldn't hold back the tears.

Sam bowed his head to hide the tears behind his shaggy brown locks and whispered, "No."

She looks puzzled for a moment, until she realized what Sam was saying. "He couldn't be here, could he? What happened?"

"The Demon. It got Dean before we could..." The sobs started and his "strong" little brother fell apart.

"Oh, sweetie! I'm sorry. John told me how close you two were. Is there anything I can do?"

After the sobs slowed, Sam tried to pull himself together. "No, I'm ok. Just need to know Dad's alright. You said a stab wound? Any idea at all what he was hunting?"

"None. But judging by how much blood he'd lost even after trying to patch himself up, it was about half a day's drive from here. I've got Ash looking into possible hunts in a twelve to fourteen hour radius. Shouldn't take him too long to come up with a few hits."

"Ash? He your husband?"

"Good lord, no! He's another hunter. Lives here. Works for me occasionally. You'll meet him soon enough. Now let's go see your daddy. He's been calling for you in his sleep." They walked to a back room, one she obviously had set up for unexpected guests. "Jo, this is Sam. He's one of John's boys. Sam, this is my daughter Jo."

"Hello. How is he doing?" Sam asked the question as he sat at his father's side, checked the wounds for himself. Dean could see the geekboy brain processing all the wounds, trying to find a pattern, trying not to look too closely at his face. It was Sam's defense mechanism. See the wounds, not the patient. Made it easier to patch up his own family without breaking down.

"The fever's almost gone. We think he'll be fine. Won't know for sure until he wakes up."

"How long has he been out?" Finally Sam couldn't avoid it. He looked at his father, pale and quiet, prepared to sit with him until he woke. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father so still. Sam whispered, trying not to be heard, but Dean was meant to hear, "Dad, you have to be ok. I can't lose you too. Please don't leave me too."

John started to come around, for just a moment. He said, "Dean?" before falling back into a fitful sleep.

"No, Dad. It's Sam."

Dean saw the look of hurt in his baby brother's eyes at that. The look was almost instantly buried, tucked away to be dealt with later.

* * *

It would be another 34 hours before John was awake enough to talk. Those hours were filled by lots of talk and very little sleep, though Ellen did make sure Sam ate. Ash found several possible hunts in the search area. Ellen talked a little about John. And she made Sam deal a little with losing Dean.

Dean began to wonder how time flowed in the "dream" world he seemed stuck in. He hoped it only felt like he'd been there for days.

When John finally came around, he seemed genuinely surprised to see his son. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm here. How are you feeling? The truth."

"I'm fine. Really. Sore as hell, but I'm ok. Ellen call you?"

"Yeah, she got worried when your fever spiked, thought I should know. What happened? Was it the Demon?"

"No, I lost track of him a while back. I was in Montana researching some unusual deaths. First cattle mutilations. Then several people decapitated. Turns out they were vampires. I stumbled onto another man's hunt and made the mistake of offering to help."

A sound of disgust from the other side of the room got everyone's attention. Ellen said, "Let me guess. Gordon Walker?"

Dean hated him even more than he thought possible. The mere mention of the psychopath made him furious.

"Yeah, Gordon. How'd you know it was him?"

"A hunter that doesn't play well with others and vampires usually equals Gordon."

"I heard he was a bitch to work with. Didn't know it was dangerous."

"Wait! Dad, are you saying that this Gordon, another hunter, was the one who stabbed you?"

"Uh-huh. He'd followed that nest of vampires from Austin. Was determined to finish them all on his own. He failed to mention they weren't killing people. They were surviving on the cattle's blood. They took me aside, let me know they just wanted to be left alone, and hoped I could get Gordon to stop hunting them. I still can't believe they just let me go, knowing I was a hunter. Every instinct told me to finish them off. I couldn't do it. Gordon wasn't happy when I tried to stop him. Got this beauty as well as the busted ribs and a few other bruises from that crazy man, but what was left of the nest should be long gone before Gordon gets loose."

"What do you plan to do about Gordon?"

"Nothing. He's highly skilled and extremely obsessed. That's too lethal a combination to mess with."

Dean thought that description sounded familiar, wondered if their father would ever see those qualities in himself. Dean hadn't wanted to see it, but when John demanded that Sam shoot him to kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon, it was hard to miss. It was a big part of why John had very few real friends in the hunting community. When he turned back to the conversation he realized Sam must've voiced what he was thinking. _Damn it, Sam! Can't you ever have a talk with Dad that doesn't end in a screaming match?_

* * *

The vision abruptly changed, Sam back at Bobby's fixing the Impala, though this time with a different audience. John sat on the porch, a look that was equal parts amusement and pride clear on his face. It was the first time Dean ever saw that look directed towards Sam. _Maybe they won't kill each other after __all._ The look disappeared as Sam pulled himself out from under the car, a grease smudge on his right cheek and his chin.

"You just about done yet? We could've finished days ago if you'd let me help." That caught Dean by surprise. He couldn't remember a time when their dad took suggestions, much less orders from one of his kids, or anyone else for that matter.

"I told you I can handle it. I'm pretty much done. Just a little fine tuning left. And you promised you'd take it easy for a while. I knew Dean got his stubbornness from you. Must've come with the car and the jacket." Dean laughed at that. Apparently their father didn't find it as amusing. He closed up, like he would when their mom was mentioned.

"So are we going to stop talking about Dean like we had to do with Mom? I know you miss him, we both do. But I can't avoid talking about him because you won't deal!"

John just gave Sam a withering glare, got up, and went in the house. Sam stood to follow and continue the "discussion" when he stopped in his tracks, gasped in pain, and fell to his knees, head in hands.

John burst back outside, at Sam's side in an instant. "Sam!?! What's wrong?"

"Vision" was all he could say in obvious pain. Dean always hated the visions, hated to see his little brother in pain with no way to stop it. John seemed to realize the only thing to do was wait it out and be there when the vision ended. When the pain subsided enough, Sam would share what he saw.

"Sam? You ok? What did you see?"

Between gasps as he worked through the migraines that came with the visions, he said, "A man. A distinguished, older black man. He went into a sporting goods store, shot the owner, then shot himself. Damn, I still haven't gotten a new laptop. I need to call Ash, see if he can do a search for me."

"A search? For what?"

"A way to save that man. He hasn't killed himself yet. We've got to try to stop it. I saw a bus drive by the man before he went in the store. Hopefully Ash can track down the bus line. Look, we know the visions are somehow tied the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Maybe it's a chance to find a new lead on him. And save some people doing it."

"You call Ash. I'll get our crap together so we can be ready the minute he has info for us."

That was one hunt Dean didn't want to relive. They found out that there was no pattern to finding the other children like Sam and that the damn demon had plans for his special children, plans that had already killed a couple of them. That bit of news freaked him out. There was no telling how their dad would take it. Especially as John already knew to be wary of his youngest. He just hadn't shared that with Sam.


End file.
